


Jesus Christ, I'm Alone Again

by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce)



Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brian had a shitty childhood, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:59:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6378853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisNameWasAce/pseuds/YourFadedGlory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian remembers the days from Barstow, alone in a run down house where the fridge was as empty as his mother's eyes. He remembers liking Juvie for the three square meals and hating it for the the three square beatings. He thought following the straight and narrow would take him somewhere in his life where he could, for once, live comfortably. But his pretty blue eyes and silver tongue gets him tapped for undercover work and he finds himself right back where he was, working a shit job for shit pay on a half empty stomach while his heart beats for people who were bound to use him and lose him like everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jesus Christ, I'm Alone Again

**Author's Note:**

> ****
> 
> ****
> 
> Well, Jesus Christ, I'm not scared to die,  
> I'm a little bit scared of what comes after  
> Do I get the gold chariot?  
> Do I float through the ceiling?
> 
> Do I divide and fall apart?  
> 'cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark  
> And the ship went down in sight of land  
> And at the gates, does Thomas ask to see my hands?
> 
>  
> 
> _-Brand New, "Jesus Christ"_  
> 

Brian swore, jerking his hand away from where he’d been digging around under the hood, sticking his grease covered fingers in his mouth, sucking away the bright burst of heat from the hiss of steam the radiator had spit out. “Piece of shit,” he grumbled, wiping the globs of spit and grease on the towel he had flung over his bare shoulder. He was sweating, rivulets beading down between his shoulder blades and soaking the small of his back and the elastic band of his boxers.

Summer in LA was stifling, spending it hunched over in a rundown garage at the edge of Echo Park, with no chance of fixing the AC was damn near unbearable. Grabbing the shirt he’d left on the work bench, he mopped the dampness from his face, falling back into the fraying plastic of the lawn chair he kept shoved in the corner, sucking down the lukewarm contents of his water bottle.

A low grade headache pulsed at his temples, from the heat and a persistent thirst that screamed warnings about dehydration. Brian swallowed the rest of the bottles contents, crushing the plastic in his fist before tossing it aside, letting his head fall back and his eyes slide close. He could hear Javier through the sorry excuses they called walls, stocking the shelves with pints of oil and motor fluid that Brian was pretty sure he was cutting with water from the back hose. Another crime for another sorry sap to address.

The Brass had picked a much bigger fish for him, one with broad shoulders and a taste in cars that made Brian’s mouth water. The only problem was actually getting Toretto on the hook. He’d been pattering around Javier’s hell hole for nearly six months, fixing up piece of shit rides for the kids too poor to invest a better shop. He turned them out more than race worthy, he couldn’t promise they’d win he wasn’t a miracle worker, but none of his customers could say they lost because of their car.

Word was getting around about him and his penchant for cheap labor and good work, the orders were increasing by the week, but none of the Toretto Team had taken exception to having someone muscle in on their clientele. Brian was sick of baking inside the four walls of the garage, slaving for twelve hours a day to keep up with demand, only to crawl back to his hole in the wall apartment where takeout was going bad in his fridge the lumpy futon was his nicest piece of furniture.

His supervisors called it being thorough.

Brian called it cruel and unusual punishment for crashing that DEA drug bust in Santa Clara and causing what Tanner had called an ‘interagency incident.’

“Fuck it,” Brian rocked his weight forward and got to his feet, smacking his palm a few times against the flimsy sheet rock. “I’m taking my lunch!” He shouted, not caring to stick around for Javier’s response. He pulled on the shirt he’d used to mop sweat from his face, grimacing at the tacky feel of the material as it clung to his sun bronzed skin.

* * *

 

Grease stains and sweat were on par for the neighborhood, Brian nodded to a few familiar faces as he made his way down toward Fat Burger, heat coming off the asphalt in shimmering waves. The food wasn’t great but the prices were right and at this point he wanted a cold drink more than he wanted anything else. Which is why his steps slowed considerably as he approached the Toretto market front, a cool breeze drifting from behind the door. A slender dark haired girl standing at the counter and flipping lazily through a magazine, Brian recognized her from the files, Mia Toretto, the sister.

Tanner had told him to avoid direct contact with Dominic’s crew, wary of his protective streak and whether or not he would perceive any encroachment on his people as a threat. But Brian had kept his distance for six months and all it had gotten him was down a pants size or two and sick from the heat. Stepping inside, he dragged his fingers through the bells tied to the open door handle, offering a small smile when Mia looked up.

“Can I help you?” She asked, eyes narrowing wearily as she looked Brian up and down.

Brian couldn’t blame her for being weary. Grease stains and sweat were commonplace in Echo Park, white boys turned gold from the sun with blond hair and blues eyes to boot were not quite as prevalent.

“Just on my lunch break, figured I’d try something new.” Brian responded warmly, watching as her shoulders dropped a fraction. “What’s good?” He asked, ambling over and tilting his head back to examine the menu board.

“Anything but the tuna.” Mia said, flipping her magazine closed and pushing it aside.

“Well I must admit, tuna sounds pretty good.” Brian said, pulling his emaciated wallet from his back pocket and tugging out a few bills. “Could I add a drink to that? Anything cold will do.” He added, laying a ten on the counter and dropping the change she gave back in the tip jar.

Mia cocked a skeptical eyebrow but when Brian didn’t back down she shrugged in a way that said ‘suite yourself,’ pulling a tub out of the fridge and a couple slices of bread free from the loaf. She mixed the tuna salad and Brian knew without tasting it that there was more mayo than strictly necessary and the pickle bits were a shade of green he  wasn’t sure was safely edible. Still, when she dropped the plate in front of him, a coke beside it, Brian grinned and gave her an honest thank you before tucking in.

It wasn’t the best sandwich he’d had, he wasn’t even sure he’d say it was good, but it was cool on his tongue and washed down with the coke it was more than edible.

Mia watched him and Brian flashed a closed lip smile at her, taking a large bite out of the sandwich to prove his point. It was worth the smile she gave him in return. “Lunch break huh, which garage did you crawl out of?” She asked, pulling her magazine back over and flipping it open.

“I don’t know that I’d call what Javier’s got going a garage.” Brian said, lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug. In the back room he heard the subtle squeak of a swivel chair, the bald head he’d been watching over Mia’s shoulder turning almost imperceptibly toward them.

“Oh, you’re the new mechanic.” Mia said, looking him up and down again like that information somehow changed her first impression of him.

“Well, I’ve been there six months, I don’t think I count as new anymore.” Brian replied. “It’s not exactly the flashy job I had in mind when I came to LA, but it pays the rent.” He offered, popping the last bit of crust in his mouth and swallowing the last of his coke and the remaining ice chips. Peeling himself off the barstool, Brian neatly stacked his empty glass and cleared plate, handing both to Mia over the counter with a smile that made the edges of his eyes crinkle.

“You should have more faith in your tuna, I have a feeling I’ll be back for it again.” He said, vindicated by the subtle blush that rose in her cheeks. “Thanks for lunch.”

That was how it began, how Brian found himself wandering down to Toretto’s market every day when the heat became too much and his stomach started to growl. The sandwiches never got any better, but the coke was always cold, and Mia was always friendly. She didn’t ask much about his work, Brian had a feeling she heard plenty of shop talk in her own house and didn’t have any interest in hearing it from him.

She talked about her classes at the local college and Brian listened attentively. He had a bachelors under the name O’Conner, but as Spilner he’d gotten a GED post juvie and that was as far as his education had gone. So he asked questions, never showing any interest in getting an education for himself, but plenty of interest in Mia’s. He helped her drill flash cards and read her quiz questions, the friendship they formed fast and easy.

The same could not be said for her brother. Dominic Toretto wasn’t there every day, but he was there enough. Most of the time he was just the back of a bald head in the back office, he walked out once in a while to grab a drink, never sparring them more than a glance.

Things were easy, they were good.

Which is why Brian wasn’t surprised when shit hit the fan one stifling afternoon about a week after he’d started coming by for lunch. The heat was somewhere in the triple digits, his head had been pounding all morning and he’d taken lunch later than usual in favor of finishing up his last job of the day, hoping Javier would let him go early.

* * *

 

He’d heard the cars long before they pulled up, the rest of Toretto’s team climbing out and making their way into the store with all the finesse of a herd of elephants. Brian felt the line of heat along his back as Toretto’s guard dog shouldered past him, sliding the ceramic sugar dish down the counter so that it collided with his cup with a bright clink.

Turning his head, Brian held his gaze patiently, waiting for the other man to speak. When he didn’t, Brian got off his stool, digging his wallet out of his pocket and laying a few bills on the counter. “Thanks a lot Mia, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, walking away, the thud of angry footfalls following him out into the heat of the blazing afternoon sun.

“Yo, try Fat Burger from now on, you get yourself a double cheese with fries for two ninety-five faggot!” Vince called, his feet crunching down the gravel drive.

Brian rolled his eyes, resisting the temptation to slug the moron. “I like the tuna here.” He replied, keeping his stride even as he walked away.

“Bullshit, asshole, no one likes the tuna here!”

“Yeah, well I do.” Brian knew the hit was coming, heard the way Vince’s sneakers scraped the pavement as he ran at him. That didn’t make it hurt any less when he found himself shoved face first against the hot metal of a truck. He turned and took a swing, catching Vince’s jaw, only to be grabbed around his middle and rammed back into the truck again.

What Vince lacked in skill he made up for in weight and sheer force. Brian tried to stay out of his grip, landing a few solid hits to his gut before Vince started rag dolling him, tackling him to the pavement, bits of gravel biting through his flesh. Vince’s fist came down against his face and Brian saw stars for a hot moment, his training taking over as he bucked his hips upward for leverage, flipping their positions. He aimed to deepen the bruise he’d left on Vince’s jaw, Mia screaming at her brother in the distance.

A hand closed around his throat mid punch, hauling him back hard enough that he was momentarily airborne before he crashed down on top of a car. And seriously, what was with these damn people and slamming him into cars?

Brian blinked, not all that surprised to find Dominic Toretto looming over him.

“Hey man, he was in my face.” Brian reasoned, holding his hands up.

“I’m in your face!” Toretto replied, rounding on Vince as he shoved him back toward the other two men who grappled with him to hold him back. “Don’t push it. You embarrass me!” He shouted, jabbing a finger at his guard dog in warning before he turned back to Brian, shoulders squared and eyes blazing.

“Jesse, gimme the wallet.” He demanded, holding out a hand and pilfering through the measly contents of Brian’s wallet. “Brian Earl Spilner, that sounds like a serial killer name. Is that what you are?” He asked, waving the thin fold of leather in Brian’s face.

“Nah man.” Brian answered, taking his wallet back.

“Don’t come around here again.” Toretto ordered, a sense of finality to his words as he turned his back to Brian and walked away.

“Hey man, this is bullshit.” Brian said, never one to keep his mouth shut,

Toretto rounded back on him. “You work for Javier right?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Brian answered, his throat running dry.

“You just got fired.” Toretto replied, and Brian had no doubt he meant it. That, well that threw a wrench into the plans, a wrench that Tanner was not going to be happy with.

Mia shot him an apologetic look, Brian waved it off, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked away. Javier had been his ticket into the racing world and he’d just blown it over a lunch he shouldn’t have been having.

He made it back to work, the bruises blooming under his shirt pulling uncomfortably as he walked. Javier was waiting when he got there, he wasn’t happy about letting him go, Brian brought in a pretty penny. But not as pretty a penny as Dominic Toretto’s endorsement.

He packed his lawn chair into the back of his Supra and made his way home early, just not the way he’d meant to.

Brian pushed through his front door, ran a cold shower because the heat hadn’t worked for a weak and eased his sore body down onto his lumpy futon. He was half way through a TV dinner that tasted more like the inside of his freezer than it did like food when his cell phone lit up, Tanner’s name scrolling across the screen.

He flipped it open and pressed it reluctantly to his ear. “Hey Boss….”

“O’Conner, what the hell did you think you were doing?” Tanner asked, his anger palpable over the line.

“The sister was going to be my in, I was just getting closer to her.” Brian reasoned, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Did it work, you make a new friend?” Tanner asked, more condescending than Brian felt was really warranted.

“She likes me, she trusts me, and she was damn well going to be my ticket in if that bastard wouldn’t have blown it.” Brian said, remembering the way Mia smiled at him, the way their conversations had carried easily for the length of his lunch break.

“Well then I guess that’s all you’ve left us to work with O’Conner, I hope you’re ready to live with the consequences.”  Tanner replied, hanging up before Brian could ask what he meant.

* * *

 

He found out a few days later when he checked the bank account registered to his alias and found the measly forty dollars he’d had after paying rent that month was all that was left. Brian tried to make it work, the cable went out first which didn’t really matter and he was rationing his frozen dinners. Then the AC quit, the power shortly after, and anything he had in his fridge or freezer spoiled in the heat that swept through his apartment.

The cherry on top was the eviction letter he found taped to the door one afternoon, his key no longer fitting in the lock.

Brian tried to find work with other garages, even the chop shops, but with Toretto’s disapproval hanging over his head it was practically impossible. He’d been sleeping in his car for nearly a week, his stomach growling, pounds practically falling off of him.

For realism, the department insisted. It was supposed to win him sympathy with Mia and much to his indignation it worked.

Brian was hovering around the park a few blocks from Toretto’s market, picking coins from his pocket to buy a hotdog off a street vendor for dinner when he saw her. She was walking through the park with the skinny tweaker kid, when she saw him Brian caught the flash of worry in her eyes.

Collecting his hotdog, he ducked his head with a sense of shame he remembered well from the days as a kid when he walked the lunch line and collected the free bologna sandwich his mother’s lack of income had qualified him for. He heard her call his name, but Brian just ducked into his car, pulling away from the park and driving off into the night.

Three days later he got a call from a man named Harry, Harry who’d turned him down for a job the week before. Not only did he have a position open for him, but a back room apartment that he was free to use as well.

When Brian asked what had changed his mind, Harry said that there had been a miscommunication about his reputation and that Dominic Toretto had cleared the air, even recommended him for the job.

After he’d hung up with Harry, Brian called Tanner, smiling with smug satisfaction as he put the Supra in drive. “I’m in.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated :3


End file.
